Before the Void

“I don’t believe in equal freedoms. The strong eat the weak. Only the best must be selected,” the patient states as he gets injected in his left-side chest and up his right sinus. He lays naked on the table with his limbs outstretched. The body emits an odour that implies the patient has an inactive lifestyle, and only bathes an estimated every four days.

Computational bee-boops sound from all around the square metallic office. Within the walls, stress recognition software scans for spikes in the patient’s baseline voice.

Twists of light sparkle and toss within Dr. Psy-3-eeT’s see-through skull, soldered to the wall, four feet tall. His glass lips are still as he speaks; and as he does, lights like filament flicker within his head. “State the Mantra again, Michael.”

And the patient repeats, “I don’t believe in equal freedoms. The strong eat the weak. Only the best must be selected.”

Computational bee-boops sound from all around the office.

Serum spreads within the patient. His eyelids get heavy.

Both robo arms remove the two serum needles from the patient’s body, retract and fold back into the floor.

Dr. Psy-3-eeT’s glass skull flickers like filament in unison with all four walls and the ceiling going beep-boop-beep. “If you believe the Mantra of Universal Law, then why did you open a Love Locket?”

Moans come out the man’s throat. “I wanted to know what it was like for a man to have dinner with his family.”

Bee-boops sound all around the metallic room. Lights twist in Dr. Psy-3-eeT’s glass head. “What inflicted your interest in this?”

“I saw a man who was happy with his family,” the man gets out in one gasp. “They were walking their dog. Chasing and playing throughout the park. I followed them all afternoon.”

Bee-boop-boo-beep-boop. “When?”

“Right before I decided to try and find a dealer.”

Bee-boop-bee. “Do you want a family, Michael?”

“Yes,” says the patient.

Bee-boop-bee-bee-boop. “But your actions don’t show it.”

“I know,” the man moans as his mouth hangs open.

Beep-boop-boop. “You still lack one-thousand and one Social Points to be eligible for fatherhood.”

“I know I can get them,” the patient pleads.

“And you know that Love Lockets are outlawed.”

“I know.”

“You can get lost in their faulty fantasies.”

“I know,” he groans. “I just wanted to know what it was like.”

“You are in denial about your life, Michael.”

Sniffles sound from the patient’s nostrils. “I was born into a poor family. Low money, low Social Points,” he whines while his eyelids start to open; worming on top of the table. “It isn’t fair for people like me. I have to try harder than anyone. And everyone seems to be getting ahead of me.”

Four rubber-ended arms emerge from all four walls and hold the patient down on the table. Computational sounds and lights continue. “What did you see in the Love Locket, Michael?” inquires Dr. Psy-3-eeT.

Blubbering comes out of the man on the metallic slab. He whines and writhes.

Another robotic arm comes out from the floor, pierces its needle into the patient’s heart, then retracts back the way it came.

Dr. Psy-3-eeT’s glass head remains hollow as he waits.

The man answers at last in a tone that’s flat, “I saw a family that was happy to see me. My wife had black hair and sea green eyes. She loved to tease and challenge me. My daughter loved to cuddle, and giggle at every little trick. She was three and had pudgy cheeks. My son was five, lively, and loved to play fight. He showed me his toys, rolled them along the floor and made noises. We also had a dog with a strong bark. We played fetch at the dinner table. I tossed an orange ball against the wall. The dog ran up and got it in its slobbery mouth. The kids wanted to play along, but my wife scolded us and wanted order. I said something that made her hold back her laugh.”

“What were all their names, Michael?”

The patient’s face fidgets.“I-I didn’t learn their names on time. Taskmasters raided the place and took my Locket away mid-hologram.”

“You’re living in delusion, Michael. You’re not a man who wants a family.”

“I am, I am,” the man babbles.

Dr. Psy-3-eeT explains, “Delusions inhibit the conduct of tangible action plans. In addition, you’re behind in all aspects of life. Unemployed. Funds depleted. Low Social Point score.”

The patient pleads with lethargy, “Please, I only wanted to see.”

“Social Law, Section 1.7: possession of a Love Locket is punishable by a demerit of twenty Social Points. You are sitting at a deficit of negative one. Prior point was demerited earlier last evening by Taskmaster badge number one-three-three-seven at 8:17 PM for pointless roaming two hours before your arrest in the basement of the Smithington Glue factory.”

“I just wanted to know what it was like to eat with a family as a father,” the patient plods from his mouth.

“How many Love Locket families have you visited this week?”

“Four.”

“And your total for the month?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Are there any more dealers you’re in contact with, Michael?”

“No,” he drones.

The walls beep and boop as voice recognition computes.

Dr. Psy-3-eeT asks, “Will you seek out any more Lockets after tonight, Michael?”

“Yes,” he says.

Beep-Boop. Voice computes. “Where?”

“Wherever the website tells me.”

“Which website?”

“B-ok.er”

The walls beep and boop as the system computes and transmits information to the Taskmaster special investigations unit across the city.

Split-second later, Dr. Psy-3-eeT explains to the patient, “You’re addicted to escapism, Michael.”

“No, I’m not. Please,” he pleads, weary, “let me leave. I’ll earn more money. I’ll buy Social Points and afford a family.”

“You’re a man who hasn’t the funds to purchase Social Points, nor enough Social Points to qualify for law-abiding money-making opportunities,” Dr. Psy-3-eeT explains.

Two ceiling doors open. Two arms descend, ended with needles with the death dosage of sedation serum. Both needles pierce the eyes of the patient and inject into his brain. He spasms as he sobs.

Dr. Psy-3-eeT says, “Sleep, Michael.”

Once the patient expires, the needles are withdrawn from his eyeballs.

Eight more arms come out the walls and prod at the body, examining its quality. Deet-doop-doop-doop. Deet-deet-doop, the SclASSN-1001a unit processes behind the walls.

The metallic slab lifts as the floor at the end opens. A long squeak streaks as the body slides off the slab and drops down into the void.

* * *

Three days later, a man wealthy both in Social Points and in money eats with his family. Steak, potatoes and gravy. Their dog chomps from a bowl overflowing with what the patient became.

The End.